


Gold and Jade Outside

by afterandalasia



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Community: disney_kink, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Meeting the Parents, Post-Mulan (1998)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-31 13:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulan is nervous about meeting Shang's parents after their wedding, but it seems at first to go well. When she reveals the name of her father, however, General Li demands that they never see each other again - for a reason that shocks them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold and Jade Outside

**Author's Note:**

> For warnings, which are spoilery, see the notes at the end of the fic.
> 
> Inspired by the great [prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/4400.html?thread=3567408#t3567408) at the Disney Kink Meme. Prompt contains spoilers!
> 
> Some inspiration drawn from _Curse of the Golden Flowers_.

Shang had to reach across, before the ride was done, to stop her from fiddling with her hair so much. "It looks perfect," he reassured her.  
  
Mulan raised a dubious eyebrow. Perfect was not exactly in her nature, after all, and Shang of all people was aware of that. But he merely gave her the smile that she was becoming more used to and kissed the back of her hand, before twining his fingers into hers.  
  
"Perfect for you," he allowed. Finally, she allowed herself to laugh over the nervousness knotted in her belly, and looked out over the land again.  
  
It was beautiful where Shang's parents lived, wild land of streams and trees gently giving way to the house itself. Shang had told her that there was kept land to the rear, away from the entrance, but there was no sign of it from the road. The winged rooves swept upwards to the sky, lattices at the windows keeping privacy while letting in light and air. It looked peaceful, beautiful.  
  
Mulan felt Shang squeeze her hand again, and realised that her palms had become slick with sweat. Nobody could have expected to have found survivors on the battlefield of the Tung Shao Pass – let alone for Shang's father to be among them, clinging to life, half-delirious and with only bloody snow to have quenched his thirst. It had taken months for him to recover, and though Mulan would not have dared intrude upon his convalescence, the intervening time had only served to let her become less sure of herself.  
  
It was hard to even guess what might be expected of her, and though Shang was probably correct in telling her to stop trying, it simply was not in her nature for her to wait for answers. Though she had to admit, it meant that there was some excitement with the trepidation. She was _finally_ going to meet Shang's family.  
  
Of course, merely wanting things to go well didn't stop her from tripping over the hem of her own qun and almost leaving a shoe behind. Only a fast reflex kept her from falling altogether; instead she caught the door of the carriage with one hand and pushed upright again, trying to keep a straight face. Shang stepped forwards as if to catch her, but was slower than her own movements, and gave her a wry smile as she straightened up and gave him a look that dared him to admit that it had ever happened.  
  
“Are you ready?” He reached out and took her hands. Squeezed slightly.  
  
Mulan took a deep breath, then squeezed back. “I am.”  
  
She could see the nervousness in Shang as well, but that was most likely because she knew him better now, not that he had become worse at hiding it. Warm affection and love washed over her again, and she wished that she had time to kiss him – and that she could do so without smudging her makeup – before they reached the door of the outer wall and he rang the bell attached to it.  
  
It made a pleasant sound, not brassy, and they barely waited a moment before the door was opened by an older man in plain clothes. He bowed deeply to Shang, who bowed back, and stepped aside. “Your parents await you in the inner hall, Captain Shang. Furen,” he added, with a bow to Mulan that was not quite so deep.  
  
“Thank you, Lao Fen,” replied Shang, and stepped through into the courtyard. Mulan composed herself, bowed to Fen, and then followed Shang with her head held high.  
  
The courtyard was of course as pleasant as the outside of the house. It was modestly sized, but the paths that ran through it were smooth curves, a small spring bubbled to their right, and a sense of peace and balance filled it. Mulan paused, looking around and smiling, and Shang chuckled.  
  
“My mother’s work,” he explained. “My father is good with the growing of plants, but he does not have the eye for gardens.”  
  
“My father says that I grow weeds as well as I grow herbs,” said Mulan. “But at least both is better than neither.” She took one last look around the garden, and chided herself for wishing that they could have met out here rather than inside. Shang had said that his father struggled to move around much even now. “Come on, or they’ll think that we’re fleeing.”  
  
To be fair, she almost felt as if she wanted to flee. Strange, how meeting Shang’s parents could make her more fearful than Shan Yu’s army ever had. Mulan brushed her fingers against the jade beads that hung from her sash and almost wished for a guardian to be with her, until she realised that guardian would most likely be Mushu and that his presence would not help matters.  
  
The thought of Mushu being here meant that she was struggling not to laugh as the door of the house opened. The woman inside looked between them both, then stepped forward and clasped Shang’s hand in hers warmly, face lighting up.  
  
“Welcome home, my son.”  
  
Mulan bowed, trying not to feel inadequate all over again. Shang’s mother was ridiculously beautiful, with shining dark coils of hair and very deep, clear eyes. Her feet were bound, but she seemed to glide in her silk shoes as she ushered them in and closed the door behind them.  
  
“With thanks for your courteous invitation, I would like to offer you this gift.” She produced it from the pocket she had sewn into one of her sleeves in a fit of boredom some weeks back. The silk wrapping had been a nightmare to tie in place smoothly so that the flowers showed, but she hoped that it was worth it. The herbs inside were ones that her mother had recommended.  
  
Shang’s mother shook her head gently. “No, no. Your presence is gift enough.”  
  
“I insist.” Mulan pressed the present forward two-handed, and Shang’s mother finally accepted with an inclination of her head. Here, Mulan felt on safer terms, and she allowed herself a smile.  
  
“Your father is pleased that you have returned,” Shang’s mother continued, as she led them down a short corridor towards a more brightly-lit room ahead.  
  
“And we are glad to hear that his health is improving,” Shang replied, with a glance round to Mulan. She was grateful for his including her, but frustrated that she had to hold her tongue so much more than she was used to. She was still feeling bare about the neck, her hair having barely passed her shoulders in the time since she had cut it short.  
  
Shang’s mother turned her eyes to Mulan for a moment, and Mulan gave a hopeful smile, but her expression did not change. Instead, she stood aside to let them enter the inner hall.  
  
Well, it could be going worse, Mulan supposed.  
  
“Shang! My son, your presence warms my spirits!”  
  
It was worth all the nervousness, though, for the smile that Shang wore in that moment. Mulan could not tear her eyes away from him as the hope and love and respect flowed up through him and he strode forward to greet his father. General Li sat in a sturdy armchair at the table, a cane discreetly leaning against the back of his chair, and he clasped his son’s arm with a trembling but determined hand.  
  
“I am glad to see you again, father,” said Shang, more softly. He held his father’s grip for what seemed like a long time before finally drawing back and gesturing for Mulan to stand alongside him. “And I introduce to you Fa Mulan, honoured by the Emperor and Saviour of China.”  
  
Mulan bowed as she was introduced, keeping her head low and feeling the prickle of being watched on the back of her neck.  
  
“You introduce a Saviour to a General?” There was laughter just beneath General Li’s tone. “Rise, Fa Furen. I would bow myself, but unfortunately I am not able to just at this moment.” As Mulan straightened up, she saw the General incline his head instead. “And please, both of you, be seated. You must be hungry after your long journey.” Turning, he gave a fond smile to his wife, who nodded.  
  
“I will bring in the tea.”  
  
The table had been made up with only four seats, but Mulan was uncertain which one she was supposed to take even as Shang sat at his father’s left hand. When Shang caught her eye, though, she reminded herself that this was not some battle which needed to be fought, and sank into the chair beside him with no small relief.  
  
“Fa Furen,” said the General, with a smile. “It is truly an honour to meet you at last. I have heard much of your bravery from the other generals. From the Emperor himself.”  
  
Mulan felt her cheeks colour, and looked down to the table, but was glad to hear praise, and not insults, from his lips. “Thank you, General.”  
  
“Please, you need not stand on ceremony. You may call me father, if you please, for I am led to understand that is what I am to become.”  
  
Sharing a glance with Shang, Mulan had to suppress too much of a smile, but when she glanced at the General’s face there was a gleam in his eye.  
  
“My wife and I were growing concerned that Shang might never find a woman who could handle him.”  
  
This time, Mulan could not hold back laughter as Shang turned red and tried to pretend that he had not heard. She held one hand to her mouth to cover it, and the General leant back in his chair as Shang’s mother re-entered the room and placed the tea tray onto the table. Mulan rose to her feet quickly.  
  
“Oh. Please, allow me.”  
  
This time, there was no argument. Mulan told herself that she was absolutely not going to make a mistake this time, and tried to think of it as making tea for her father at home rather than under pressure. Somehow that did indeed make it easier to pour the tea, passing cups to the General, Shang and Shang’s mother before keeping one for herself.  
  
The General took one sip of the tea and gave a contented smile. “Mm. Very fine. So, tell me in your own words. How was your time in Jingshi?”  
  
The words, like the tea, flowed more easily than Mulan would have expected. At first, she tried to hold back on her hand gestures, on talking about how it had felt to take Shan Yu’s sword, on the impulsive decision to use the fireworks against him. The General responded with delight to her story, however, and before long she warmed to it, miming the action of the fan in her hands and the shapes of the fireworks in the sky. Shang broke in to explain her “brave, brave” actions at the Tung Shao pass, to General Li’s more subdued nods, and the conversation turned delicately to the General’s own health.  
  
“Much improving,” he replied. “I hope to be able to leave the house before too long. I am grateful to the ancestors for having decided that it is not yet time for me to be among them.” Mulan laughed politely, but could not help a pang at the reminder of her own father. Spending her time with Shang had meant that she had not particularly been able to spend much time with her family in recent months.  
  
General Li tapped his fingers lightly against the rim of his teacup, his gaze thoughtful on Mulan. She glanced up, caught his eye, then had to quickly look away again from the outright curiosity flickering there.  
  
“You must pardon me,” he said, no doubt catching the fast turn of her head. “There is something familiar about your eyes. Perhaps I knew your father, once,” he added, setting down his cup and shifting slightly where he sat. Fa Zhen, I believe you said he was?”  
  
“Fa Zhou,” said Mulan, forgetting herself and allowing it to be a correction. “He served during the time of the Quitian Uprising.”  
  
She knew from what Shang had said that General Li would also have been in the army at that time, although she did not know whether he would have been in the region. Mulan offered the information with a smile, half-expecting that the General would move to reminisce and talk about the days of the rebellion. What she could not have foreseen was the way that the colour drained from his face, and he gripped the arm of his chair so sharply that Shang’s mother turned with fear in her eyes.  
  
“Father?” said Shang, preparing to rise, but his father just looked to him and then back to Mulan with horror in his eyes.  
  
“You must go,” he said hoarsely to Mulan.  
  
It slid between her ribs like opening the scar. “What?”  
  
“This courtship is over. I will not allow it,” he said. Pushing on the arms of his chair, he forced himself to his feet, his body moving jerkily. Mulan had never met him before the war, but she could not imagine that the thin frame he bore now had been his in those days. “You must go. Mei,” he said to Shang’s mother. “Come, assist me.”  
  
Mulan rose to her feet, fast but still more shocked than angry. “Because of my father? You accept a woman who disguises herself as a man, but object to the mention of my father who was acknowledged for his bravery?”  
  
Somehow, it was worse that it was not an insult to _her_. Her appearance, her manners, her actions; they were hers to bear, and hers to take the consequence for. But to hear what sounded like a slight against her father was unthinkable.  
  
“Father, please,” Shang said. He stepped in front of his father, and for all his height and strength looked like an uncertain boy as he reached for his father’s hand. “Talk to us a while longer. Whatever this is, it can be overcome.”  
  
“You will not wed her,” said General Li. His voice rose slightly, accusingly. “That is my final word.”  
  
Pain flashed across Shang’s face, and he gave Mulan a look of desperation. She did not know what to say to him, did not understand how quickly things had turned against them. “Father,” he said finally. “With your say or without. I will choose Mulan before my family name.”  
  
General Li went to snatch his hand away, but his failing strength meant that he could not pull out of Shang’s grip. Colour was not quite returning to his face; it still had an ashy hue. “Such a match cannot be made,” he said again.  
  
“What reason can you have?” said Shang, at the very same moment that Mulan finally burst out: “We are already married!”  
  
General Li staggered a step, then fell still, looking at them in horror. It was not anger that coloured it, though, but fear, and Mulan felt a knot form in her stomach. Anger, she had been prepared for, even rage, but somehow to see it slip into fear made it all the worse. She stepped forwards and slipped an arm in front of Shang, though whether it was to restrain or protect him she was not quite sure.  
  
“My father cannot travel great distances,” she said, though she heard the waver in her own defiance. She took a deep breath, but her woman’s clothes seemed to feel tighter than usual around her chest. “We were married in my home town, we paid our own bride price and dowry. The date and time were auspicious. We beg pardon that you were not there, but General Xu stood as Shang’s father.”  
  
They had done it all as well as they could. Mulan’s parents had not been a love match, but they understood, and had done all that they could to help their daughter be married as soon as they could. Even the matchmaker, with some gifts and some wise words from Zhou, had been swayed to say that the match was a good one. After all of the fear that Mulan would never be able to marry, she had – more, she was happy. The Emperor had given them gifts, as well as honours, and it had been enough to establish them.  
  
The General looked from Mulan to Shang. “Is this true?” he whispered.  
  
Shang paused; he had been more pained at the absence of his parents, but had wished to be married as well. Then he nodded. “Yes. We are wed.”  
  
This time, General Li was silent for longer, looking at them both. Shang’s hand came to rest on Mulan’s shoulder, and she was reassured by his presence. As long as they were together, it did not matter; they had faced down Shan Yu, and would not be afraid of this.  
  
“It does not matter,” said General Li finally. “This cannot be. Your bride price will be returned to you,” he added, to Mulan, “and a home found. You will be treated honourably.”  
  
“If you would treat me honourably, then let us be married,” she said. “Our stars have been checked; there is no reason to stop us.”  
  
“You are my daughter.”  
  
The words took the breath from her lungs. Mulan felt as if she had been cut again, the blade slicing through her stomach, and she almost stumbled sideways in her unyielding gown. “What?” she finally managed, quietly.  
  
General Li took a shaking step back to the table, and leant heavily on the back of one of its chairs. Tears shone in his eyes. “In my youth, I was a fool. I thought myself in love with a servant girl,” he said. “She fell pregnant. Zhou was my Captain, a good man, and I knew that he and his wife wished for a child. He agreed to raise the girl for me.”  
  
The room seemed to darken around them, or perhaps that was just a dull mist in her vision. Mulan stepped away from Shang’s touch, unable to turn and face him, her throat too dry and choked for speech. Behind the General, Shang’s mother stood, pain but not surprise in her features.  
  
Mulan was no fool. She knew that men had affairs, and that women bore the children of them. It was an honourable man, after all, that would even acknowledge the child as his own. But her father was Fa Zhou, and her name was – had been, until she wed – Fa Mulan. It was Fa Zhou who had helped her learn to walk, to read and write. It was his ancestors to whom she had prayed.  
  
She shook her head. “I know who my father is.”  
  
“Then you are my blood, if not my daughter,” General Li said. He still could not meet her eyes, his gaze fixed on the teapot, the empty cups, the cooling water on the table. “And so you cannot wed my son.”  
  
Her hands came to rest upon her stomach, pressing hard enough that it almost hurt, and finally she turned to look at Shang. Her Captain. Her husband.  
  
Her brother? No, it could not be. He was staring at her, face gone pale, eyes seeing nothing.  
  
“Go home,” said the General. “Go to your father, your mother. It is they who raised you. Say that your husband has been killed, and you are now a widow. But you cannot stay here.”  
  
Nausea rose in her throat, betrayal in her heart. It was not anger at her father, though, not at _Fa Zhou_ , but with this man whom she had never met and who was now telling her that her life was woven of lies. She had fought so hard to find her place, and now he said that it was to be taken from her.  
  
Finally, Shang seemed to find his tongue. “You never spoke of this,” he said. “All of your words of honour and family and doing what is right... they are based on this lie? You had a child and...” he looked round to Mulan, and swallowed hard, shaking his head. “No. This cannot be.”  
  
“My sin cannot be undone,” said General Li. “But yours can be prevented. Leave, Fa Mulan, and this will not have happened.”  
  
“It has happened,” she said. She held her chin high and looked and him defiantly. “And it cannot be undone. I am with child.”  
  
Silence crashed across them with the force of a cavalry charge. Shang had known, of course; Mulan had shared her first suspicion with him, when her monthly blood did not come and her breasts grew more tender than ever they had before. But now it had been three months, and she was certain. They had been so delighted at the thought of being able to tell his parents together, and now... and now...  
  
And now the place which she had tried to build sickened and corrupted around her, the child in her womb made a monster by the actions of another twenty years ago and more.  
  
The General bowed his head. “I must answer for what I have done,” he said.  
  
“No,” said Mulan, and anger spilled forth now, bitter on her tongue. “We answer for what you have done, and you regret.”  
  
Abruptly she could no longer bear to face him, and turned on her heel, storming from the room. One of her shoes slipped from her feet, and she kicked off the other, hitching up her qun to walk more freely. All too often she missed the clothes of soldiers – not the armour, but the ku, the yi, that had allowed her to move so easily. The freedom of it all, before this.  
  
Her feet remembered the way from the room, through the garden, from the house. From the corner of her eye, Mulan saw servants peering from behind doors, perhaps hearing the outburst, perhaps scattering from her path. She pulled the jade beads from her sash and threw them to the ground, tugged the gold pin from her hair to do the same. Her hair swept loose, long enough to brush her shoulders now, but she ignored it and tugged her sash looser as she walked. Tears burned in her eyes, anger and loss swirling together in her stomach, but this time there was not the uncertainty to wrestle with.  
  
Looking around the outer courtyard, she easily caught sight of the stables, the carriage in which they had arrived being cleaned already. Mulan ignored it and crossed to the horses instead, taking a blanket and saddle from the wall and tacking up the horse in angry movements.  
  
Perhaps later, there would be room for sadness. Regret. But now there was bile in her throat and anger in her heart, and it was all so hot that it felt that it would burn her from the inside out. She needed to let the air cool her skin; the rain would be better still, but it did not look like rain tonight.  
  
She was just slipping on the bridle when she heard a footstep behind her. Mulan paused for a moment, but did not look round; most likely, it was just a groom or stableboy. Let their master tell them why she had taken one of his horses. She was just about to set her foot into the saddle and mount up when a hand came to rest on hers.  
  
Without pause or warning, she whirled, slamming her left hand round in a fierce punch. When the man dodged sideways, releasing her, she was still turning and ready to fight before she even realised who it was.  
  
“Almost got me,” said Shang. There was a sad, distant smile on his face.  
  
Mulan could not bring herself to answer to his face, and looked away, putting her hands on the horse’s back once again. “I will do as he says, and leave,” she said. She did not need to clarify whom, could not bring herself to reference the man again.  
  
Shang’s hands came to rest on her upper arms, warm and comforting, as he stepped in behind her again. For a moment she tensed, then as his chest pressed against her back and his cheek brushed against her hair she let out a shuddering sigh and leant back into him. “We will need two horses,” he said. “Wait for me.”  
  
“I cannot ask you to do this,” she said, without turning round.  
  
His lips brushed against the curve of her ear, half a kiss. “I will go where you go. In the south, they will not know of us, and a sword can make a living in any land.”  
  
She thought of the excellent house in which they stood, the beautiful gardens. The rumour that flew that Shang was to be made General in the coming years. “It may be a poor life.”  
  
“It will be with you. It will never be poor.”  
  
They had faced down worse, Mulan told herself again. But they would be together, and they would be _free_. And if the secret had been kept for twenty years, she supposed, there was no reason that they could keep it for more.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for half-sibling incest.


End file.
